


It's Only Stalking If You Don't Say Hi

by Kyupidete



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Rain, Stopping Rain, discussions, lamenting, little moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyupidete/pseuds/Kyupidete
Summary: M'yria needed time alone to stew, Solas clearly didn't get the message.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Character(s), Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan & Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	It's Only Stalking If You Don't Say Hi

After exploring the elvhen ruins, M’yria needed time alone. She decided to hunt for their dinner herself, with only Assan for company, shrugging off requests from her companions to join her excursion. She glanced down at her faithful friend as they ran silently, the wolf’s strikingly deep eyes imploring her with a look that would have been unsettling for anyone who hadn’t known him for some time. They asked her what was wrong, just like everyone at camp had. She quickly looked away, unable to meet their gaze, just as she hadn’t been able to meet the questions of her companions.

Only Solas had seemed to understand, and she had less than zero interest in discussing the glory they had once had, as seen in the Fade. The Fade that he could enter at will, and she could only see a shadow of in her dreams. From one moment to the next she wished she could see them as they once had been, only to realize that seeing her people like that would only serve to break her heart further. 

No, as much as she usually loved talking to him about his forays into the Fade, and heatedly arguing with him about the morality of action versus inaction, another lecture from him about the duality of history was the last thing she needed at the moment. She ran faster, pointedly focusing on the dull pain from the exertion in an effort to drive out all thought. She listened closely for any noise that would indicate a creature that could be dinner, but all she heard was the gentle padding of Assan’s paws as he diligently trotted beside her.

She had smelled rain in the air before leaving camp but had expected to be back long before the first drop fell, so the droplet on her cheek surprised her. It was a whole second before she realized it had come from her eye, and she brushed it away quickly, only to discover more drops had joined it. She looked up to the sky, certain they had not come from her, to find rain falling swiftly down on her, impairing her vision almost instantly.

She quietly cursed as she got soaked, the rain making it significantly harder to hear any indication of movement in the shrubbery around her. She paused for a moment to take in her surroundings, deciding whether to head back to camp. Suddenly, the water stopped pounding down on her, as quickly as it had begun. It was strange; she could hear it falling around her but did not feel a single drop. M’yria looked up and saw a blanket of raindrops sliding off an invisible barrier above her. Puzzled, she glanced around her, looking for the source of the peculiarity. She saw Assan staring behind her intently, poised for action as always, but unbothered.

“What do you see, Stubby?” She asked, a little perplexed, but not overly concerned. Had she had the need to worry, she knew Assan would already be on the defensive. She peeked over her shoulder and saw Solas standing a small distance away, a light shimmer emanating from his staff as he stood under the umbrella of magic that had enveloped them both.

“We don’t need to speak,” He said gently, prompted by her gaze. “I had not intended to make my presence known. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“You didn’t need to worry. I’ve been keeping myself safe for some time now, thanks,” M’yria sneered.

Solas didn’t react to her rebuke, but M’yria felt a flinch from Assan as if he understood her words, and she realized the harshness of her statement.

“I’m sorry, I am just not in the mood for company, even yours.”

“I understand, lethallan. I just couldn’t bear to see you get soaked. It would be a shame to see the same woman who regularly fells dragons without a scratch fall ill from a little rain.”

M’yria smiled half-heartedly, “I appreciate the thought, if not so much the stalking.”

“You seemed distraught. I was worried.” He paused, “I want you to know I am here if you need me, whenever you need me.”

M’yria stayed silent a moment, listening to the pounding on the roof of their magic shelter, pointedly avoiding his sympathetic gaze to prevent the tears that pricked at her eyes from falling. A noise caught her attention, and she latched on in an attempt to fend off the emotions that threatened to undo her. The sound of small feet on leaves drew her eyes to the edge of their magically dry clearing. In a flash, two of her arrows had each found a nug, with another in Assan’s jaw. The wolf had instantly appeared where she shot, seemingly without moving, a peculiarity that no longer seemed strange to M’yria.

“Looks like I found us dinner after all,” She smiled gently and glanced at Solas, who had that same damned sympathetic look on his face. His stupid, sweet look caused the tears that had been fighting to escape to leak slowly down her face. She collapsed heavily on a fallen tree.

“I truly believe your wolf is magical; he moves much faster than wolves should and understands more than one would think. I would know, I am a bit of an expert on the subject of wolves,” Solas stated, as he walked to sit next to her, generously ignoring her tears.

She ignored his throwaway statement and spoke, looking directly at Assan in an effort to avoid Solas’s gaze. “I just wish I was powerful enough to set the world right. I see these small glimpses of who we once were and I know it isn’t fair. I have always stumbled upon ruins and felt helpless, and now I am one of the most powerful people in Thedas, and seeing ruins still makes me feel so lost. My clan deserves to know who we were; we deserve to be more than we are. We aren’t those people anymore, and we should be. Why is it that elves have to live in alienages and starve, begging for scraps of food, or wander in a world that clearly doesn’t want us, begging for scraps of knowledge? Why is it that we only get the scraps? We deserve to be able to have our fill, of everything. It makes me so sad, and then it makes me angry. We deserve to be more than we are.”

“We will be, vhenan, we will be.”

She looked up at him angrily, “How can you say that? The wandering apostate, knowledgeable to be sure, but powerful?” She laughed humorlessly, the sound as sharp as the dagger at her thigh. “You aren’t powerful enough to do that. I’m the Inquisitor, and not even I am powerful enough. It’s enough to make anyone feel hopeless.” She breathed deeply in an effort to calm herself, realizing that she was bordering on yelling, “Don’t you still see our glory in the Fade? How can you come back to our reality after seeing that?”

“I’ll admit, sometimes reluctantly, but I cannot make the world better in the Fade.”

“I want to remake the world, Solas. I want these shem to fall at my feet and have them know what it is like to feel as powerless as I have every day of my life. Is that wrong?”

“It is only wrong if you act on those urges, then you are little better than Corypheus, no?”

M’yria spluttered out a little laugh, turning to face him head-on. “You really know how to flatter a woman; you know that, Solas?”

He grinned, “I have been told I have a way with words; I do recall you falling sway to them a time or two.”

“That’s what I let you think; really I’m just here for the ancient elvhen knowledge.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

He looked her directly in the eye, leaning slightly closer, eyes smoldering, “If you are not more careful with your tongue, you may find I have other uses for it.”

M’yria inched closer and rested her forehead against his, letting her hair create a curtain between them and their surroundings.

“You may find I like that,” she whispered with a small smile.

She heard his breath hitch and felt him almost imperceptibly fumble with his staff. M’yria chuckled internally and blushed as she allowed herself a mental image of another staff. After a moment, she pulled away and touched his cheek lightly, studying his face in the growing darkness around them.

“Thank you for being here. But next time don’t follow me,” she looked at him sternly.

“Next time, I won’t let you know I’m here. I’ll just let you get wet.”

“You know, sometimes I don’t mind that,” she said with a wink as she stood, grabbing her companions’ supper. “We should get back; I am sure the others are getting restless and hungry.”

Solas rose and stretched, “We really should get you out of those clothes too; they are soaking wet.”

“They are fine for now. Were they to get any wetter though, I would have needed to get out of them immediately. Lucky you came along and stopped the rain, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, it really would be a shame if you were to get any damper,” with those words, he dropped the magic barrier keeping the water at bay, instantly soaking them both.

M’yria laughed heartily and raised her face to the sky, wiping her wet hair from her face and letting the rain flow over her, washing away the salty remnants of her tears.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a gorgeous painting of a mage walking through a storm with magic protecting them from the elements and this popped into my head. Just a little bonding between M'yria and her boo thang, Solas.


End file.
